


lessons too late for the learning

by cptsuke



Category: Animal Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 07:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20093635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptsuke/pseuds/cptsuke
Summary: deran paves his own road to self destruction with a little help from his mamahow to ruin your surf career & go to jail in the same week





	lessons too late for the learning

**Author's Note:**

> pls forgive my handwaving surf comp knowledge (i tried)  
i was fascinated by the idea of how deran stops surfing and some long theory brainstorming with @onecoloradaykeepsthedoctoraway on tumblr and this story started forming. because s1 deran was a self destructive ball of hate and i wanted to see how i could translate that into ruining his own chances at getting out.  
also there is slight alluding to smurf creepy unnatural attachment to deran, be aware.

The feeling starts like a headache at the base of his skull. It starts the day Craig and he are due to start driving up north for the last QS of the year, Deran's not in the top ten by any means but his season's score is almost respectable, if he can get some Excellents, ride some good waves and make a good show, it'll set him up nicely for next year. And then, maybe, who knows?

But Smurfs there, leaning on his door and asking, “Before you go, can you pick up the rent checks?”

“Can't Baz do it?” Deran exhales disbelieving. She _knows_ they wanted to leave early, beat the rush, get some downtime, maybe catch some waves before it all kicked up.

“Oh baby, do you think you'll need help?” She sounds so sweet saying it, like she's doing him a favor and shame flares bright and hot.

They end up leaving late, driving through the night, and they'll be pressing to get there with time for Dean to stretch out before he has to be in the ocean. 

He's grinding his teeth the whole coastal drive up to Huntington Beach, the blunt Craig passes him when they stop for gas does nothing to sooth his twitching nerves and just leaves a sour curdling sensation in his stomach.

His hair pinches where he tied it angrily, too tightly, too haphazardly as they'd rushed to leave after they'd done all of Smurfs little errands.

He roughly rips out the hair tie and starts gathering it all back together again unreasonably pissed by the loose hairs he keeps seeming to miss.

“You okay man?” Craig's frowning at him.

“Fine,” Deran tries not to snap, forcing his hands down, forcing himself to just let his hair stay the way he's tied it this last time, a loose strand of hair tickles the back of his ear and he clenches his fists to stop from ripping it out again.

He blows out a frustrated breath.

“I'm fine, just tired.” Which isn't a complete lie, he must have slept some part of last night but he remembers long hours staring at the moving shadows on his ceiling, trying to will himself to stop thinking in circles and just go the fuck to sleep.

“You're gonna kick ass,” Craig says with a shoulder punch before disappearing to do a line in the gas station's bathroom.

Deran sees Adrian before the first heat starts, when the morning wind is chilled from coming up over the ocean and everyone's milling around doing last minute adjustments. He sees his bright smile and hand lifted from across the crowd of wetsuit clad bodies, and Deran feels suddenly as if there's a spotlight on him. Like everyone can feel his heartbeat pick up, see his face burning red,

He tries to smirk, give a nod, _something_, but it feels more like a sneer on his face.

_No one can tell, can they?_ He thinks wildly, as if everyone around them can tell just by the way he greets a friend that he's had Adrian's dick in his mouth.

They can't know. No one can know. Deran's already barely a person to his family, just the baby, just the grunt, untrustworthy to do anything but the simplest of jobs.

They can't know.

He can't – _can't_ – have anymore weaknesses.

Adrian's smile becomes more fixed as he sways back and looks away, and those few inches of space feel safe even as Deran feels a stab of shame. Adrian's his best friend, acting like this is weirder and more noticeable.

He'll make it up to him after. Later, when he's not tense and suspicious and angry. Nothing says sorry like orgasms, right?

He surfs a beautiful wave in the first heat, and for a moment everything feels right, like maybe it's all falling into place, but he can't find another wave for the rest of heat and barely scrapes the bottom of a passing score.

He bombs hard in the second heat. Can't find his feet or his rhythm, and even when he can get the yawning black hole of feelings in his chest to settle, the waves aren't where he is; instead he's sitting on choppy foam watching, to his growing frustrations, the other guys better positions pick up better waves and leave him feeling like a spectator.

It doesn't feel good.

A couple of years ago an ESPN interviewer had laughed as he'd called Deran _kid,_ and kept circling the interview back to the fuck up he'd had in the morning that had almost fucked his chances before he surfed near perfect sets for the rest of the day. He'd felt small and lucky in the way that had nothing to do with skill. Like an imposter getting revealed.

He feels like that now.

Like for the first time in forever being in the water didn't make him feel better.

The horn signaling the clock running out sounds and Deran paddles back to shore, ignoring the next heat's surfers bobbing patiently, ignoring anyone who so much as looks at him on the shore, just moves to the showers as quickly as he can.

That's it for the season, no more qualifying, just events for people who don't choke like Deran.

He bows his head under the shower's pressure, hopes it masks any tears that escape even as it does nothing to hide his heaving chest.

He doesn't bother finding Craig after – he doesn't want to be here anymore, but he doesn't want to be home either – and he definitely doesn't want to hear whatever Craig charms girls with, it's definitely not going to be how he taught Deran everything he knows, Not after today's shit showing.

Instead he finds the scout and curls up in the back, pulls his sleeping bag over his head and tries not to feel too bitter about the way the sound of the waves still lull him to sleep.

Deran wakes to the sound of the scout's engine and fresh morning air blowing overhead. Blinking blearily at the passing scenery he looks to see if anythings familiar and climbs haphazardly into the front passenger seat. Craig tosses a greasy bag with a lukewarm bacon and egg burger on his lap without looking away from the road.

He eats mechanically, less hungry and more to replace the taste of stale cigarettes on his tongue. They fly past signs for Laguna Beach and Deran eyes the glimpses of turquoise water between the green of trees and shrubbery.

“Early start.” He grunts and knows Craig will hear the question because his brothers idea of early is after lunch and the suns not quite peaking over the mountains in the east. He feels muted, his voice sounds kind of dead, but he can play it off as being tired, upset about yesterday's loss. And he is. Pissed off at himself. Tired. Just absolutely fucking exhausted.

Craig shoots him a side eye with a mouthful of burger. He chews in silence even though Craig has never once cared about talking with his mouth full.

Deran braces himself for whatever his brother is hesitating to say.

It's not a massive surprise when he finally gulps and says _Smurf called._

Deran waits for the welling frustration, for a wave of anger to hit.

“kay,” he mumbles.

He doesn't feel much of anything. He feels like he's fifteen again, when Smurf's every move seemed targeted to fuck with him, only this time it's him doing it to himself, like some sort of fucked up cycle he can't break free of.

Craig's hand pats aimlessly towards him, hitting on his closest shoulder. Deran buries his face into the elbow of the arm resting along the door.

“You 'right man?”

_Mmhmmf,_ he says into the material of his hoody. It's not like it really matters. He's stuck here anyway.

As much as he'd like to yell and scream that Smurf would have never let him go to any of the CTs. What the fuck's it matter what she would or wouldn't have done when he can't get his head out of his ass long enough to even have the opportunity to ask?

He closes his eyes and breathes, in and out, long and deep, maybe he can sleep the whole ride home and not have to see Craig's hangdog pity looks for rest of the drive.

Smurf wraps her arms around him as soon as they walk in the house and Deran kind of sinks into it, tries to find some sort of comfort in the fact that even if he fucked up Smurf still wants him.

But that feeling doesn't last, no sooner is she releasing him, she's moving to stand behind the counter, shoring herself up into an authoritative stance and tells them that Baz has job lined up and there's things they have to do.

Immediately. First to steal a car, then to scout a location for security cameras. Then a never ending list of tedious things that come with no explanation, just the expectation that they do it now.

“What's it even for?” He explodes between the fourth and fifth hour of errands.

Craig's shoulders shrug like he's not bothered but his fingers are drumming against the window like he too is starting to feel the strain of whatever has got Smurf fucking with them.

They're both tired as fuck from traveling and Deran thinks if they stop for longer than a hot minute Craig's going to start doing lines just to keep his eyes open.

Deran guiltily feels glad that he's not the only one that all this shits grating on.

“They treat us like idiots man, like we're just grunts.”

Craig groans something that could be _leave it alone_, or maybe he's agreeing, either way they're both too tired to do much more than bitch about how shit the day is.

It's on dark by the time they're headed back to the house, the sky glowing orange in the dying light of the day. The house is lit up like it's christmas, the gate open and cars parked everywhere, overflowing up and down the street.

“We having a party?” Craig asks, his face lighting up with a grin. Craig always did love a party and just the idea of one perks him up.

Deran briefly considers driving the car through the crowd and into the pool. Or just turning the car around and driving til he hits the border.

Instead he shoves the car into park and tries to control his breathing, maybe he can just skirt around the edge of the party, not be noticed and cut out early

“Here's my surfer boy!” Smurf crows, her voice traveling across the crowd, as Deran awkwardly feels every eye turn to him.

She pulls him into a hug, sickly sweet smile pasted all over her face, and says sweetly into his ear.

“Don't pout baby, just because you didn't win,” He thinks he might be sick. “You can have your fun again next year.”

He doesn't know what to do with his arms, hands flexing ineffectually. But hers wind around him like vines, pulling him into her space and just holding him there.

The murmured _baby_ in his ear feels like a physical presence in the room.

It doesn't feel good. It's not even the suffocating feeling he usually gets when Smurf misses her baby and starts smothering him.

He feels sick. Like a thing. Like she only finds worth in him when he's under her fingertips.

Deran tries to lose himself in the music, in the drinks that keep appearing in his hand, in the weed smoke that's hanging in the air.

He can't breathe, there's too many people, all them give his shoulders too hard pats, all them laughing, all them having a good time like there was something worth celebrating.

He hasn't felt this way since he was doing coke at 18, Craig and Adrian had found him on the train tracks near the beach, no idea how he'd got there, waiting for something he couldn't articulate. He still doesn't know what he was doing there, his heart beating too fast, feeling like he couldn't get enough space and the whole world was closing in on him. But Craig pays more attention to him now, reads his moods better than anyone had ever cared to.

He'll just try and cheer Deran up if he sees him now. But he's not sad and the thought of their usual cheer up sessions makes him want to scream.

He's just got to get out of here. Get out of here before Craig looks over and sees all the shit he's feeling written on his face.

He can't breathe.

He's got to get out and be alone.

He ends up at Adrian's.

Which is somehow the stupidest fucking thing he's done tonight and the least surprising. He doesn't quite knock, just kind of lurks against the screen door staring at his skinned knuckles until he's noticed.

This was a mistake.

He knows it the moment Adrian's roommate calls back into the house _Adrian, your idiots here!, _knows it the moment he sees Adrian's face soft with sleep blink at him through the door.

This isn't going to help. Deran turns away, runs hands through his hair as he hears Adrian come outside.

“Deran? You okay man?”

He turns back, but can't look at him, focuses on Adrian's hands flexing like he wants to reach out but doesn't know how Deran will react. Deran hates himself for it, a hate that wells up like a physical manifestation blocking his throat and he turns away, hands going up to once again run through has hair but gripping hard half way, the pain gaining him the slightest bit of clarity. He shouldn't be here.

Fuck.

His hands tighten, for a moment he thinks of just tearing it all out, the mental image of bloody clumps in his hands flashes in his mind, the stinging in his scalp heightens then he releases, his hands flinging wide as far from himself as he can get them so he doesn't do it again.

“Smurf had a party,” Deran says to the bushes beside the porch. “You didn't come.”

“Wasn't sure you'd want me to come, you kind of disappeared yesterday.”

Deran bites his lip, every which way he turns it seems like he just keeps being a shitty friend. “How'd you do?”

Adrian's goofy smile lights up his face and he says in a quiet proud voice, “Made it to the final.”

Deran expects a stab of jealousy, to feel bitter that Adrian achieved something didn't, but instead he feels a sad sort of pleased.

Deran's full of natural skill and an inability to think too hard about his own mortality. Adrian's natural skill has been honed by years and years of hard long practice. He deserves this. Even Deran's not so big of a jerk to resent him for the win.

“That's great man.” he says and it doesn't sound too bitter to his ears.

Adrian's face goes through a complicated series of emotions before settling into a sad smile of his own.

“Not that it matters, I'm not going to be able to scrape the cash together for the next one.”

Deran does some quick math on what he's got stashed, but he's never been careful with money, never was much for accumulating it - more would always come later – never cared much for it except what it could get for him or what it meant to his family. He kinda regrets spending it so freely now, what good is all the shit he's spent his money on if he doesn't have anything left to give to his friend.

He thinks wildly of asking Smurf for the money but lead drops in his stomach at the interest she'd want to collect, let alone the questions she'd ask.

She can never know why. If she did..

Deran thinks, sometimes, maybe - _maybe _\- he could survive Pope, Baz and Craig knowing; they'd be cruel and lord it over him, use it as an excuse for every little thing he did wrong. But he hopes – _hopes_ – they'd still want him.

Smurf though. If she ever found out that he didn't feel like she wants him to feel. That he'd never.

Deran's not built to be alone. None of them are. Smurf had tied them all together, but she held the casting vote.

When she'd cast Julia out for the final time, it was like she died. But they hadn't been allowed to mourn her, hadn't really even been allowed to acknowledge she'd ever been a person let alone their sister.

At least Julia had had J, she loved that kid as much as any one of them could love someone.

That black feeling starts swelling up in him. What was he thinking coming here, he should have just lost himself in some girl. It's not like it makes him feel sick or anything. He can lose himself in the mechanics of what he's doing, just because he doesn't feel anything doesn't mean it feels bad.

Not like Smurf's weighted touch. She takes and takes and then she'd demand just a little bit more.

Until Deran had nothing left to give.

He feels trapped in a way that has nothing to do with the space he's in. He's never had something of his that he didn't end up sharing or risk losing. It didn't matter.

Whatever he wanted, whatever he tried to carve out for himself, she'd ruin it or manipulate him into the place where he destroys it himself. Deran knows himself, he makes shitty decisions under pressure, he shouldn't have come here, he doesn't want Adrian anywhere near him when he's like this.

Deran starts walking away

“What are you even doing here, Deran?” Adrian calls out, his footsteps sound as he hesitantly follows down the porch steps.

He sounds like he cares and Deran really needs him to not, right now Deran doesn't need anything but the blood roaring in his ears and seeping from his aching knuckles. He shouldn't have come here. It was stupid and pointless, and he thinks it just makes it feel worse.

“Hey!” He tries to shout it. Tries to make it mean. Angry. Tries to pretend it's not pleading. “Just fucking, I shouldn't have, Just go back inside.”

Deran brings his burning eyes up to meet Adrian's. He doesn't have to say anything more, Adrian nods, his head bobbing like he's reading something splashed across Deran's face.

“Okay,” Adrian says, voice soft, “Just. Be,” he falters the frown on his face twisting into deeper lines.

“Be careful, don't be an idiot.”

Deran laughs, feels the sounds slice up his throat even as he turns away.

“What the fuck's it matter.” He mutters, hears Adrian's exasperated _Deran!_ But he's walking, he's moving, got to get away. It feels like if he sits still too long he's going to vibrate out of his skin.

Nothings changed, he's just been too stupid to realize Smurf's not going to let him have anything. He doesn't get to have surfing. He doesn't get to have _that_.

_Maybe she doesn't get to have him, _he thinks, bitter and wild like an insane idea forming.

His knuckles still ache, smudging his shirt with red every time he brushes against the weeping open wounds.

He'd got in some good hits on Craig, he'd had to, he's going to do something stupid, can feel it in his too fast heartbeat, feel it like glass in his throat.

He's going to tear himself apart but he won't be taking Craig with him.

He can't remember what they argued about, can barely remember him cornering as he tried to leave the party, can't remember much but the sensation of swinging his fist, the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

“What is wrong with you?!” He'd shouted, hands not quite cutting off air, but pinning Deran, immovable.

He thinks maybe he didn't fuck up too badly – hopes he didn't – Craig had looked more pissed than hurt as he stalked away from Deran on the ground where he'd let himself fall after Craig had thrown him against a wall.

That's the only thing it seems he's good at somedays, making the amicable Craig lose his shit.

He feels his eyes burn, breaths in deep til his ribs ache from the expansion.

It's never going to get better. That's what he's afraid of. That everyday will be the same. That he's going to be old and beaten down with Smurf's skeletal hand still his hair.

He doesn't want that, doesn't want any of this but he can't see a way out.

Deran blinks and finds himself in a car and he doesn't remember how that happened. He doesn't know whose car this is. It doesn't really matter in the sense that he can't remember breaking in or hot wiring the thing, but there's no flashing red and blue in his rearview and traffics light enough this time of night so just like always, he goes unnoticed.

He thinks he remembers Adrian calling after him.

But he's losing time and the numbness creeping in makes him doubt everything.

The sound of a screaming engine startles him, and he looks down to see the tachometer in the red.

He grinds his teeth and tries to stomp the gas pedal down but he's already got it pressed down to the floor.

Deran's mind goes blank and fuzzy as the slipping of his tires makes his stomach flip.

He doesn't care.

_He doesn't care_, _he doesn't want this._

His foot lets up slightly, the car shifts - momentum lost, control lost - time slows, the guard rail looms closer.

_He needs to accelerate out of the slide_, the thought floats out of the numbness but Deran can't make his body do anything, doesn't know if he wants to do anything.

_Okay_, he thinks, staring at the guard rail moving what seems ever so slowly towards him.

_Okay,_ he thinks as the car hits and he's slammed sideways in blackness.

Deran wakes up in a hospital bed with a mouth that tastes like blood and a handcuff cinched tight around one wrist and he tell himself that he's not disappointed to have woke up at all.

Smurf stares at him hard and silent while he wakes up fully, while Craig lurks in the background

"I've got to talk to the gentlemen outside." She says finally, her mouth in a drooped displeased line, and leaves him to his brother. 

“I fucked up,” He says, and is immediately grateful that Craig pretends not hear the tears in his voice.

“Hey, it's okay, it's okay.” Craig's smiling gently even though Deran's handcuffed to a hospital bed and everything is very not okay.

He lets Craig pull him into a weird uncomfortable side hug, lets him say a list of lies into his hair.

_She's just scaring you man, Smurf's not going to let you go to prison, she'll pull a deal, bribe someone, you'll be fine._

“I fucked up, she's gonna-” He can't say it.

“Smurf's not gonna let anything happen to you, you're her baby, right?”

It hurts but when Craig's arm tightens around him, it's the best -the only- thing he's felt all night. He's still got Craig, he's still got something.

Smurf comes in the moment Craig leaves.

“Baby,” She croons, her hand stroking the wrong side of firm. “I don't know if I can help you.”

It hurts. Deran's chin drops to his chest, he holds his breath against the welling tears he can feel in his throat.

“The police are going to come in, baby.” She says in an even voice, fingers gripping just that little bit tighter into the sides of his jaw. “And you're going to take what they give you and you're going to _keep your mouth shut._”

She looks at him like she's already seeing him behind bars and the bottom of his stomach drops out.


End file.
